Page 12 of White Rabbit

A gravelly voice pulls me from my thoughts. “You always plotting?”

Papa T's eyes are narrowed in my direction as he lines up his dominos and reorders them. I hadn’t managed to get a read on the older man just yet, other than the fact he kept to himself. He always walked around with a cigarette tucked behind his ear and occasionally it found its way between his lips, but I’d yet to see him actually smoke it.

I offer him a lazy shrug as Hari and Beans also glance at me, like children watching a conversation between adults. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Boy, I see those cogs turning, clicking over in that head of yours while you watch,” Papa T scoffs as he places down his tile. “Always watching.”

Clicking his tongue, he reaches up for that cigarette and rests it between his lips. “There’s two places you’re gonna end up in, solitary or the infirmary. The first is no fun—trust me, and the second is even worse.”

“Hmmm,” Houdini nods with a shudder. “Nurse Rancet is a mean one. Gets grabby too, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, if I need a little attention, I guess I know where to go.” Chuckling, I place my tile down next.

The sound must have caught her attention, because once again Officer Bishop’s eyes landed on me. I can tell when she’s watching me, I can feel the curiosity in her gaze. With a smirk, I wink at her, taking pleasure in the way her skin flushes. Oh, she was going to be divine when I finally got her beneath me.

Chapter Eight

AVA

“Is that what you’re wearing?” Tiffany asks in the reflection as she applies her mascara in Orla’s bedroom mirror. She gives me the once over as I rub my hands over my skirt.

“What’s wrong with it?” I’d chosen a shimmery blush crop top that left my shoulders exposed and had sheer sleeves. Pairing it with a high-waisted skirt in the same shade and finished with some over the knee boots, I thought I was looking like the perfect combination of hot and classy. Not wanting to go overboard, I’d loosely curled my hair, and my only jewelry was a pair of silver hoops and a simple silver chain belt.

“Nothing…don’t you think it's a little plain?”

“For fuck’s sake Tiffany, she looks gorgeous.” Orla strides in, still in her underwear, holding a bottle of chilled champagne that she uses to top up our glasses. “What’s your damage tonight? You’re being bitchier than usual.”

“I just think she needs a little sparkle or something. That’s all. I didn’t say it looks bad.”

“She doesn’t ‘look bad’, she looks drop dead gorgeous.” Orla raises her brow and lets her gaze move over me freely. “You’re going to have to stick your tits out more to get attention tonight, Tiff.”

“God, it’s not a competition, Orla.” Tiffany rolls her eyes and straightens up, checking out her outfit in the mirror as she sips on her drink. She was wearing some sort of silver sequined minidress with silver chains at the back.

Orla places the champagne down on a small side table and starts pulling on her deep purple halter neck jumpsuit with black beading all the way down the V between her breasts, “Then stop competing. And just be nice.”

Crossing my legs, I sit back on Orla’s bed and gulp down my drink. It was going to be a long night, and we hadn’t even left Orla’s apartment yet. Chad, Jeremy, and Orla’s semi-regular hookup, Lewis, were meeting us at The Blue Caterpillar in an hour for cocktails and dancing. Since I hadn’t gone out with them to celebrate Chad’s promotion, and I didn’t have work for the next three days, I had no excuse this weekend to skip a night out on the town.

“Fine, I won’t have an opinion in the future.” Tiffany huffs, red painted lips pouting before she vanishes into the bathroom and closes the door behind her.

Orla walks over and flicks one of my curls. “You look hot, don’t let her get to you.”

I lift my glass and let Orla pour me another one. “I’m not, it’s just…does she seem mad at me lately, or is it just me?”

Tiffany and I had been friends since college, meeting during a yoga workshop on campus where we discovered we lived in the same dorm building. We’d had our difficulties over the years, but it was beginning to feel like I could never do anything right. I had the wrong job, the wrong outfit, I didn’t come out when I had work the next day.

Orla’s mouth twists. She was always the calm, cool one who hated drama. “I never have a clue what’s going on in her head. She’ll come out and say what’s bothering her eventually.”

“Uber will be here soon, bitches!” Tiff yells through the bathroom door.

Orla shares a look with me, sighing gently as she tries to motivate herself too. “Let’s do this!”

The cocktail bar was exactly the sort of thing I’d expected when I’d read online that the Volkov twins were opening a club. It was classy, all differing shades of navy and gold. The tiles behind the bar were dark and glossy, reflecting the refracted light from the overhead gold cage filled with glittering butterfly fairy lights. It was shadowy and intimate in a way that felt almost sensual and sexy. Chad has managed to save us two sofas tucked away in the corner of the seating area, on the opposite side of the dancefloor. Here the walls were a deep navy color with a gradient that gradually fed into white at the top.

“Isn’t this divine?” Tiff giggles as she sits in Jeremy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. “The Volkov’s clearly have great taste.”

“You look gorgeous.” Chad gets to his feet to give me a kiss, hands wrapping around me to squeeze my ass. “I’ll go grab us some drinks.”

Tiff leans in, glancing over her shoulder in case one of the Volkov’s might be lurking. There’s too much background chatter and the steady bass of the music for her to whisper as she says, “I’ve heard they like to share their sexual partners.”

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